personal reasons for moving to New Jersey. “I moved here four months ago,” she shrugged. “Change.”
He nodded. “How do you like it?”
“So far, so good.”
The detective smiled, looking a little sheepish. “All right, I have to ask. Do you know Ryan Finlay? He worked the five-two.”
“I do!” she exclaimed, surprised again. “How do you know him?”
“His father was my partner way back when. I’ve known Ryan since he was little.”
“Oh, yeah?” she smiled at the coincidence. “We were partners for a few months.”
Kreeger’s eyes lit up with recognition. “Anna, yeah!” He shook his head. “I know this is hard to believe, but I remember Ryan talking about you. He liked you.” Shaking his head again and looking at her with newfound respect, he added, “Said you were a good cop.”
Anna blushed, not at the compliment, but at something Kreeger would know nothing about. One night after her divorce a little over a year ago, she and Ryan—who had a wife and three kids under the age of ten—had gone out for beers after work and seen the bottom of one too many pint glasses. She ended up taking him back to her place and spending the night with him. To some extent, the tryst had been inevitable. Sexual tension had been steadily building between them for months, like it was so often between partners. But she’d still felt awful about it. Ryan had wanted to continue their affair, but Anna was so ashamed she requested a transfer. She was relieved when it came through a few months later.
Still, Ryan… That night… The sex had been amazing.
She reluctantly shook off the memory. “You know, Ryan used to take pictures at homicide scenes,” she said to Kreeger. “In fact, he bought me my first disposable camera.”
Kreeger laughed. “Touché, Anna. But just to let you know, I decided to let you off the hook back on the driveway.”
Aware that Gene and the two other detectives were now following their conversation with interest, Anna coughed and turned away. Kreeger must have become self-conscious, too, because he got serious again.
“So the perp leaves the kitchen to take out the husband upstairs,” he said, quickly turning back to work. “While he’s upstairs he grabs the jewelry. Then what, he comes back down here?”
“Yeah. He comes into the kitchen and sees the woman isn’t dead like he thought.”
“In fact, he finds out she’s made a phone call.”
“She called her brother, not 9-1-1. Why would she do that?” Anna paused. “Maybe speed dial was all she could manage?”
Kreeger was nodding. “Possibly. But there might be something more there. The brother told me Serena tried to tell him something. He thinks she said, ‘Bet violent.’ ”
“That’s strange,” Anna said, frowning. This message thing was news to her. “What does it mean?”
“The brother doesn’t know.”
“Could it be a name? Maybe she knew her killer?”
“I wondered that too. But when I asked the brother he said it doesn’t sound like any name he knows.”
“Or maybe she was saying, ‘Be violent when you find the guy who did this to me.’? ”
The detective shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Did the brother hear anything else?” she pressed.
“Yeah,” Kreeger said, flipping through his notebook. “And I think it supports the scenario we just worked out. After his sister said, ‘Bet violent’ or whatever, Web said he heard a minute of silence and then, and I quote, ‘a howl and a crashing noise.’ ” Kreeger flipped the pages back. “I take that to mean Web heard the perp come back into the kitchen after killing the husband and cry out in rage when he saw Serena with the phone in her hand. Then the guy picked up the chair and hit Serena with it, which was the crashing noise Web heard. The brother said the phone disconnected at that point.”
What happened next wasn’t difficult to imagine. “So after that, the perp emptied a few rounds into the woman to finish her off?”
“Point
He nodded. “How do you like it?”
“So far, so good.”
The detective smiled, looking a little sheepish. “All right, I have to ask. Do you know Ryan Finlay? He worked the five-two.”
“I do!” she exclaimed, surprised again. “How do you know him?”
“His father was my partner way back when. I’ve known Ryan since he was little.”
“Oh, yeah?” she smiled at the coincidence. “We were partners for a few months.”
Kreeger’s eyes lit up with recognition. “Anna, yeah!” He shook his head. “I know this is hard to believe, but I remember Ryan talking about you. He liked you.” Shaking his head again and looking at her with newfound respect, he added, “Said you were a good cop.”
Anna blushed, not at the compliment, but at something Kreeger would know nothing about. One night after her divorce a little over a year ago, she and Ryan—who had a wife and three kids under the age of ten—had gone out for beers after work and seen the bottom of one too many pint glasses. She ended up taking him back to her place and spending the night with him. To some extent, the tryst had been inevitable. Sexual tension had been steadily building between them for months, like it was so often between partners. But she’d still felt awful about it. Ryan had wanted to continue their affair, but Anna was so ashamed she requested a transfer. She was relieved when it came through a few months later.
Still, Ryan… That night… The sex had been amazing.
She reluctantly shook off the memory. “You know, Ryan used to take pictures at homicide scenes,” she said to Kreeger. “In fact, he bought me my first disposable camera.”
Kreeger laughed. “Touché, Anna. But just to let you know, I decided to let you off the hook back on the driveway.”
Aware that Gene and the two other detectives were now following their conversation with interest, Anna coughed and turned away. Kreeger must have become self-conscious, too, because he got serious again.
“So the perp leaves the kitchen to take out the husband upstairs,” he said, quickly turning back to work. “While he’s upstairs he grabs the jewelry. Then what, he comes back down here?”
“Yeah. He comes into the kitchen and sees the woman isn’t dead like he thought.”
“In fact, he finds out she’s made a phone call.”
“She called her brother, not 9-1-1. Why would she do that?” Anna paused. “Maybe speed dial was all she could manage?”
Kreeger was nodding. “Possibly. But there might be something more there. The brother told me Serena tried to tell him something. He thinks she said, ‘Bet violent.’ ”
“That’s strange,” Anna said, frowning. This message thing was news to her. “What does it mean?”
“The brother doesn’t know.”
“Could it be a name? Maybe she knew her killer?”
“I wondered that too. But when I asked the brother he said it doesn’t sound like any name he knows.”
“Or maybe she was saying, ‘Be violent when you find the guy who did this to me.’? ”
The detective shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Did the brother hear anything else?” she pressed.
“Yeah,” Kreeger said, flipping through his notebook. “And I think it supports the scenario we just worked out. After his sister said, ‘Bet violent’ or whatever, Web said he heard a minute of silence and then, and I quote, ‘a howl and a crashing noise.’ ” Kreeger flipped the pages back. “I take that to mean Web heard the perp come back into the kitchen after killing the husband and cry out in rage when he saw Serena with the phone in her hand. Then the guy picked up the chair and hit Serena with it, which was the crashing noise Web heard. The brother said the phone disconnected at that point.”
What happened next wasn’t difficult to imagine. “So after that, the perp emptied a few rounds into the woman to finish her off?”
“Point
Similar Books
